Connecticut western news., 1887-04-13

'Mary! Mary!"
 The landlady's voice echoed shrilly down the deserted hallway of the Kings Cross hotel.
 Deserted, we say, for at this time of the year little travelling patronage was vouchsafed to Kings Cross.
 The postmaster boarded at the hotel, and the town clerk had room there, and the farmers dined there of market days (which only came once week., but the arrival of a real live guest from the railway station, four miles away, always created flutter.
 Kings Cross was a dreary little hamlet, scattered, in an inconsequent fashion, along the ragged Maryland coast, with round lighthouse, whose eye of revolving flame glared wicked!y out to sea of stormy nights; there was bathing beach, more or less washed away by the capricious tides, and an irregular street of old stone houses and wooden cottages.
 There was apost office, village store, and an ancient stone church, whose graveyard, on a steep side hill, seemed to be slipping down the bank, in suc- cession of rude terraces, until it's down. ward course was promptly arrested by a hedge of gnarled and hoarJ yew, at the foot.
 And this was Kings Cross-one of the oldest and ugliest villages on the Mary land coast.
 "Mary! I say, Mary, where are you2'
 Once more Mrs. Yorac's. voice sent its cracked burden down the paved hall, and tall, pretty girl came hurriedly up through the tall, purple spikes of the hlac-trees in the ba, k garden.
 Were you calling me, Mrs. Yorkes Oh, am very sorry, but-"
 "Calling ytu!' Mrs. York put her hand p.aintively 10 her throat, and rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling, by way of evincing great mental and physi- cal prostration. Calling you! And where, may l venture to ask, have you | been2"
 Mary Fo'yott was pale, violet-eyed girl, with hair of the real Scotch gold, a delicate profile, and sen>i;ive red lips.
 'I-I have been to the graveyard" she murmured, ''with some wild roses and white lilies. Oh, Mrs. Yorke, par don me! ran both ways; but it was Decoration Day, and did not want his grave to be desolate and neglected, while every one clse's was loaded with flowers"
 Mary Folyott, Pm surprised at you '" said Mrs. Yorke. ''Hes s dead and bur- jed, and, by all accounts, though Inever saw the young man, you couldn't treat him decently while he was living. ] don't think it signifi B much about flow CTS now that he's gone. And you're here, l beg you to remember, to work for me, and not to carry flowers to other folkses' gravesr'
 Mary Folyott hung her head; but she was well accustomed to eat the bitter bread of dependence.
 How brief a while ago it was that she was the petted darling of fortune! Now, orphaned, penniless and alone, she was drudge-in-chief to Mrs. Yorke, of tho Kings Cross Hotel, her fathers second cousin.
 "Come, make haste! :" said Mrs. Yorke "There s gentleman came in the nine o'clock stage. He's in Number Nine teen, and he wants his breakfast, anc old Cassy's got the toothache, and won lift finger. Str up some mullins ant fry some eggs, there's dear, and I'll b. broiling chicken and getting the coffe, ready"
 Mechanically Mary obeyed. It wa rather monotonous life for girl C eighteen; but after all Mrs. Yorke Wa fairly kind in her way when there wa no especial hurry, and when Classy, tk cook, did not aggravate her, or MT Yorke give way to his particular failin. of too much Bourbon whiskey.
 Mary stood in the cool shad ows of tn vine leaves that yelled the milk-roon window, listening to the rush of the sur on the shore, and watching the robin dart in and out of the old button-bal trees, and stirred the English muffin with busy fingers, while her thought went sorrowfully back to the grave unde the shadow of the yew hedge, where sh had left the white lilies and the crushe' : heap of fragrant roses.
 . Not even a sunbeam !" she had said rebelliously, as she pushed back tn gray green yew, breaking off tn branches and bending back the spurs i a sort of hot anger. He shall have sun : shine on his grave-to-day, at least" . And as Mary worked, the slow teal trickled one by one down her cheek. . She had loved Hugh Derby very dea1 ly, but she had coquettish elemer 7 through her na;ure-like moot womer un3ortuu atoly-snd he had gone away {